Another Independence
by nymphh
Summary: It was the time for Scotland to claim his independence once and for all, but something restrains him from going far beyond... After all, brothers go first.


Another independence

England was sick again.

It was not unusual for him to catch a cold from time to time due to his variable mood. But this time was different. His brother, his eldest brother, had proclaimed his independence. And that was too much for him to endure.

He should have been used to that because this was not the first time he had to face something related to "independence"... Unfortunately, he was not as accustomed as he thought.

England coughed forcefully, his lungs hurting like hell. He felt dizzy while he thought over and over about it.

"Why does this always have to happen to me?" he said with an inaudible voice.

The TV was on and all he could watch (no matter how much he kept on zapping) was the news.

"_On the 18 of September people in Scotland will vote in a Referendum whether to remain in the United Kingdom or not..._"

As the TV presenter stressed the "not", England grimaced and switched over.

"_It's time for Scotland to take charge of its own destiny, free from the shackles of a London-based UK parliament!-_".

England got infuriated and mumbled "They don't know anything" as he threw the remote control. That made his head felt worse, as if he was carrying a heavy stone in it. When it came to his eldest brother, England always suffered from a headache.

He lay down again carefully so as not to awake the angry lion he had for a headache. Then, he looked at his bedside table and tried to focus on the glass of water and the pill. His other brothers had already settled in his home for as long as the referendum lasted. And, although he did not complain about their visits, he did not feel like being with anyone around.

"C'mon England. You have to take the pill already." Said Ireland.

"I don't need it!" England grumbled and looked the other way; not being able to see his brother sighing.

Then Wales came into carrying a soup on a tray.

"It's true, brother." He put the tray on the other bedside table and crossed his arms. "How many times do we have to go through something like this. Huh? Here. Take the pill."

England knew he was incapable of denying his brothers' demands, so he took the pill; still not looking at them.

His face was red and his hair was soaked. He could not stop sweating; and this was not overlooked by his brother, who put a hand on his front.

"Oh for God's sake! You're burning like an oven. I bet I could cook scones in there."

"Don't laugh at that brother" said Ireland "I think we should leave him to rest. Are you sure you will take the rest of the pills England? You know, we don't feel like coming back here again and making you take the pills while cursing you, do we?"

"Yes, yes. Whatever..."

Still looking away, his brothers left him as they had said this. They knew the first days were the worst, mostly because England was not willing to believe such a thing; but that made things even worse.

It was the evening when the final result would be decided.

He could feel his people arguing between the fear for having Scotland away from them; and the pride for believing they would be better off without Scotland. Evidently, England did not want things to change. He had suffered all his life from being alone and being attacked, even by his own brothers. When things among them started to calm down, he felt a little better in his heart. Nowadays, that would not go through his mind. But independence was like a stab in his heart.

His brothers had forgotten to switch off the TV, and England did not feel like looking for the remote. The news was still audible, even though he did not want to hear it.

"_We don't know how exactly the results are going to end, but we can confirm that Dundee City has reached a majority of yes and this seems to unbalance the fragile position of-_"

England felt his blood boiling as the presenter kept on talking; and just when he was about to explode, someone entered without knocking.

"Awrite, England!"

"Go to hell!"

A pillow flew until smashing into the face of a tall red-haired, blue-grey-eyed man. England then realised at who had come in.

"Hey! What was that for lad?"

Scotland, a tall and athletic nation, was standing at the door. With one hand on his hip and the other holding a cigarette, he took a deep puff and approached England. Scotland was not surprised to see his little brother all red and sweaty, all surrounded by lots of tissues on his bedspread. He knew very well his way of "having everything under control".

"What for!? As if you wouldn't know what's going on right now, you knobhead! "

"Come on England. We both knew this was a matter of time."

"You're not supposed to be doing this. You promised me!"

"I'm tired of you. And things change. _You_ must know that"

"Shut up Scotland! You're doing this because you're very fond of pulling my leg" England got angrier when he saw Scotland looking innocent-ish. "Oh, don't give me that face. I know you very well and what your interests are-"

"Stop being a spoilt brat. You are worse than me. You are a stuck up, cheeky, complete idiot..."

"I'm not like that, you git!"

"Don't shout at me, bastard!"

"Who's a bastard!? I'm not the bastard. You're the bastard! Why are you leaving me!?"

Another pillow was thrown away but Scotland could dodge it.

"Aye, calm down a bit will you?"

Scotland took a chair and sat down. He put his elbow on the bedhead, close to England, just at the same time he took another puff.

"Could you please stop doing that? You know I can't stand the smoke."

"Well, it's not as if you could smell anything at the present."

"And whose fault is that!?"

After having cursed that, England started to cough hard. His throat was like a sea of lava that blew up every time he coughed. England felt tears wanting to spring, but he repressed them. Scotland did not miss that action.

"You always repress yourself. How can a ken what's happening to you?"

But before England could say anything, the voice of the TV presenter attracted their attention.

"_The latest polls are suggesting the result is too close to call..._"

England was about to cry. But then, he jumped of fright when the TV was turned down completely. Scotland had reached the remote and stayed silent.

England observed him. Scotland had always been compulsive, detached and tactless; but he knew that he was also frank and warmhearted. Deep down. He had always been a serious man, whether he was laughing at someone or talking authoritatively. This time, he was expressionless; and England did not know what was going through his mind.

Then, Scotland stood up.

"Well, I leave you here. I've got to go."

"What? You're leaving? Don't tell me you've come here just to laugh at me..." Scotland did not only answer but also avoided his brother's eyes, which infuriated him even more. "Are you serious!?" Then, it seemed all England's fury faded replacing it with resignation. "Why do I not learn...?" He sighed.

Scotland stopped his way out of the room and looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"No matter what I do, I have never been able to keep anyone by my side." He gave a bitter laugh. "Not a surprise that people call me _the king of losing things_."

"That's such a ridiculous name." Said Scotland, giving the last puff before throwing it to the ground and troded on it. "But I think it suits you."

"Don't tell me..." Seeing that his brother did not go yet, he continued. "You don't like being in this situation, am I right? I know you want to be known as a separated kingdom; not from now, but since a long time ago. What's in it for me, to keep you by my side if you don't want to? That's ridiculous." Seeing that maybe he had spoken too much, he then clarified his words. "If you want to leave, go on! I won't stop you!"

Scotland did not say anything for a moment; instead, he sat down on the corner of England's bed.

"You are ridiculous."

England laughed making no comments; and as he lay back, he could not avoid but to moan in pain. Scotland could not help but worry a little about him.

"You are right, lad?"

But England did not answer. Not because he did not want to, but because he felt so faint that he was almost unconscious. Anyone who saw him would feel pity for him. And, as he himself had already said, he seemed ridiculous in his condition.

The figures were going up and down as people were voting in the polling stations. Scotland could feel their desires and he knew that his people were divided, as so was his heart. The final hours, the final end. Time coming to a final decision.

When he was about to stand up to leave the room, a timid and weak hand grabbed his dark blue jacket.

"Don't leave..."

England was talking in his sleep. His weakened state had succumbed him to the lands of dreams, where he was not aware of expressing his feelings. He was no longer able to repress them, and Scotland was there to hear him.

"Brother..." said England faintly.

Then, a noise of people coming from nowhere interrupted his thought. He must have pressed the volume button unintentionally; and the presenters made their voices heard again.

"_Now we are close to the final decision of the referendum. Will Scotland be an independent kingdom? Will they want to separate and leave the UK? Is it what Scotland wishes?_"

England moaned and turned his head, as if he wanted to say something in his sleep. Scotland looked at him. England frowned. He had his eyes very closed, just to resist the (failed) temptation not to cry; but Scotland could see his eyelashes becoming a bit wet.

He sighed and sat in a better position so as to be just behind him to place his head within his legs carefully. Scotland lowered his face and buried it in England's sweaty, warm, blonde hair.

"You're such a crybaby brother-"

"_Finally, we've got the last and final result!..._"

"Yet I'm always the one who takes care of you."

"_Scotland says NO to the independence!_"

Squeals of joy were spread over the room from the TV. People had finally taken a decision. Although both parts were very close to one another, there was no doubt that one was the most prominent and most important for Scotland. For both.

"Brother..." mumbled England.

Two countries that had shared too much; that have been brothers from the beginning of their history.

Two brothers that needed one another.

* * *

Okay. First of all, English is not my native language so sorry for that.

Most of what these unknown presenters say is picked up from the BBC News along the referendum.

The reason why Scotland alternates an English pronunciation and his is the same reason as to why England shuts down his feelings and emotions consciously. In the case of Scotland, he speaks with a Scottish accent when England is in front of him (England doesn't understand quite well his brother's accent); and with the English accent which apparently only speaks it when England cannot hear him. But anyway, that's an idea of mine :P

Lastly, I don't position myself to any side. That is not something that concerns me. I just wanted to write a one shot about what happened there with these two brothers.

I hope you all enjoyed this :)

Edited: 02/06/2015


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